Life is moving fast, too fast, actually. A life of travel, of time so far away from the arms that God had cradle you in your infancy. It seems as if only a moment ago I was laughing at the idea of my grandparents ever getting old. I was sitting at my grandmother's table stating my goals of creating pills that would allow her to never grow old, for us to never grow old.
When I look at pictures like this, I realize that those ambitions were a little too... ambitious. Nothing will stop the wrinkles. Nothing will stop my legs from growing just one more inch. And nothing, will bring back the memories that have fallen just off the edges of my grandmother's mind, off the edges of her tongue.
At any moment she might not be able to finish her... se...sen...senten...? Sentences seem to be a thought of the past at this point, and all I hope for now is the acknowledging grasp of her hand in mine... that even though Grandpa Orney has passed, that even though her house has grown quiet... she is still here. And so am I.
My love for her does not change. It will never. I hold on to the hope that even when the day comes that she forgets my name... That she forgets that she saved my life when I was a baby. Even when she cannot express her favorite phrase Je t'aime (I love you)... I will still be able to grasp that hand in mine. I will still be able to say I love you. And she will still be able to understand.
Losing grasp of your physical grandparents is hard enough; but, losing grasp of their mental side seems to be even harder.
I think that is the hard thing about being a creative - a filmmaker - a photographer. You always have physical markers on your past... of what you have done.
If you out there... if you are one of those people. Do not forget to hold on to the present even more tightly than you hold on to the past.
There are very few moments nowadays that I get to hold my grandmother's hand. Living thousands of miles away makes it pretty difficult. With each phone call I feel as though I lose a part of her - while she loses part of her memories.
It's a long, drawn out goodbye... that I am wishing would be even longer, slower, sweeter. God doesn't give us the choice of going back, but he does give us a choice to cherish every second that I have left, to love so much that it tears us up inside.
Je t'aime, Etoile. I wish things weren't the way they are... but I love you for never ever giving up.